For a Fix
by Knight in Rainbow-Coloured Armor
Summary: Harry and Draco have a similar problem. Drug addiction. When they meet at Saint Brutus's rehab, will they be able to break away from or be broken by their beloved drugs? It's hard to fight the bond that similar pain creates. MY FIRST FIC! AU SLASH HD!


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my dignity and I certainly don't own Harry Potter. But, ohh, I would _love_ to…

**Author's note of DOOM:** Yay for me! This is my first fanfiction, and I do believe it is pretty _fagulous_! Well, I've been reading them forever, so it's about time I wrote one! Anywho, read it, **review** it, and make sure you some back and read the next chappie, 'cause I'll love you like crazy. Okay, so enjoy it, at least. I know it's totally angsty and all that, but you know you love it!

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**For a Fix**

**Chapter 1: Welcome to Hell**

Draco Malfoy's hands shook slightly as he stood outside the tall brick building. It looked to be four stories, though it wasn't quite as wide as his own home. His scared and empty gray eyes took in the cold-looking metal doors and the barred windows that were periodically dispersed throughout the bricks. It didn't look nearly so uninviting outside of the wrought iron gates as it did now that he was inside of them.

He had looked out of his family's long black limousine at the tall trees and flowery bushes that poked their dying greenness out of the grey gate's bars, extended at least ten feet high. His mother had asked their chauffeur to park the car in the nearest alleyway, afraid that someone might recognize them getting out in such a worn-looking area, especially since their destination was what it was. Draco and Narcissa had walked from the alley, talked to one of the guards at the gate, and made their way in silence, down the wide path that led to the withering building.

The two of them were standing just outside of it now though, as they both looked up to the peeling letters that spelled out 'Saint Brutus's Secure Center: Rehabilitation Branch'. Draco knew what was stirring painfully inside of his mother's egotistical mind. She was uncharacteristically wondering how she could possibly put her son through this, making him stay in such a low-class facility. And she was wondering what people would say if they found out.

"This is your own fault, Draco." She spoke for the first time since they had left their manor. "I don't want to bring you here any more than you want to be here, but you've done it to yourself. Oh, don't look at me that way, Draco! Your father doesn't want you around if you're getting yourself into trouble. Have you no respect? Don't you care about what you're doing to his reputation? I don't even want to think about what would happen if the ladies in my City Circle found out about this…"

"Mother, you've already given me this same speech about five times," Draco snapped. All his mother cared about was how things would turn out if their 'situation' should get out to the public. They had chosen Saint Brutus's simply because it was completely confidential. His father had wanted nothing to do with it and his mother didn't care enough about him to actually check out anything else about the center. He was genuinely wishing that she had as Narcissa grabbed his arm and dragged him up the wide stone steps to the doors.

"I'm not going to stick around long, once you sign in--"

"I wouldn't expect you to."

She knocked and one of the steel doors was quickly opened by a stocky woman with tight gray curls. "Well, hello there! You must be the new boy… come in, come in. Hello, ma'am, I'm the receptionist here, Lise Wanmer." Her voice was peppy and enthusiastic, as though he was on his way to some great treat. Draco snorted and walked a few steps to the left of the women. His mother was silent and Lise Wanmer rattled on about how they had been expecting him, though she seemed to have forgotten his name, as she never said it.

The lobby was painted in a drowsy light blue color and it had an almost somber feel to it. Along the walls were vinyl-covered chairs and above them, cheap paintings and photographs, all landscapes and still life. Draco suspected that if their had been any people in the paintings, they would look the way that he felt. There were no windows and the receptionist desk was at the back of the room, next to another steel door. The room smelled strongly of air freshener, which teased Draco senses and made him want to snease. The older woman led them to her desk, which had a plaque that read, 'Madame Wanmer' at the front.

"Alrighty, then. We'll just have you sign in, now." She handed Draco a clipboard with a pen and a few papers on it and his mother another that had less. They both took a seat silently and read over the information, filling out what they had to. Draco's gray eyes scanned over what someone who worked there had already filled in: His name, his date of birth, his address, phone number, parents names, all the basics that his mother had told them over the phone.

_**Rehabilitating From:** Methamphetamine Addiction_

A surge of memories came flooding back to him as he read those words. Draco closed his eyes tight and took a deep breath. There were far too many memories, both good and bad. Memories of parties and friends and white powder. Memories of vomit and police and hospital vans. He opened his eyes and took another deep breath before signing his name at the bottom of the page.

As anticipated, his mother finished before Draco did. She stood to give the papers to Madame Wanmer and then strode to stand before Draco, who continued to look down at the third paper that he was on. He wasn't taking in a word of it and his eyes grew blurry with want for moisture.

"Draco, I'm leaving now."

He continued to stare down at the indecipherable words in front of him.

"I'll come and get you when they say that I can. A-and I'll visit you as much as my schedule permits. I'm sorry…"

He suddenly turned his gaze swiftly to meet his mother's. "Goodbye, then," he said coldly.

"Goodbye," Narcissa said back, just as coldly. And she left through the doors, back to their long black limousine and back to their luxurious home while he finished his papers in the dull lobby of a place he was so unfamiliar with.

Once he had signed all the areas that needed to be signed, answered all of the questions that they asked, and skimmed over the rules briefly, though not actually registering them, Draco walked to Madame Wanmer's desk to give her the clip-board.

"All done?" Her voice was not nearly as warm as it had been with his mother present.

He nodded silently and she pressed a button that buzzed as she spoke into some sort of microphone.

"The new boy is ready to be brought in."

Draco's stomach dropped as if he had fallen from a great distance and he felt as it continued churning in discomfort. Not thirty seconds later a large, male guard opened the door and stalked in quickly, grabbing Draco's bags and then taking him by the arm. Draco winced with minor pain and let the guard take him into the hall that lay beyond the steel door.

"We've just gotta check these here bags, boy. Standard procedure, I'm sure you understand…"

The walls were no longer pretending to be cheerful. They were all grey and frozen-seeming with no pictures and no windows, just a dozen steel doors with key-locks on them. All was silent, more silent than the lobby even, where he could at least hear the wind outside against the door. At the end, the hall broke into another one that ran horizontally across and they took it to the left to one of the only rooms that was along the walls in this corridor. The guard took out a set of keys and opened the steel door, then entered, locking it behind them. Another guard was in there, standing quietly behind a wooden table. Draco shivered at the temperature of the room as the first guard slammed his bags on top of the table.

"This 'uns got a lot of stuff he brought 'ere with 'im," the other guard said as Draco's bags were unzipped and the contents strewn out. The two men sifted through it in silence, moving some of it over into a separate pile. Just as Draco was wondering what the second pile was for, the second guard slid it off of the table and into a plastic bin.

"Wait, what are you doing with all that?" Draco asked loudly.

"This is all prohibited here. None of it can go upstairs with you," replied the guard who had brought him in.

"But it's nothing that should be a problem! What are you going to do with it? You'll lose it, or-or throw it away, won't you?" Draco yelled as he looked down at his hair-dryer, gel, razor, nail-clippers, clothing hangers, and belts that he had brought. In addition, there were several other items that Draco couldn't understand why he wasn't allowed to keep.

"That's how it is here, buddy," spat the guard. "You can have it all back whenever you get out of here."

Draco scowled and the guards laughed at him.

"Okay, now strip. We gotta make sure you ain't got nothing else on you," The second guard said seriously.

Without protest, Draco viciously removed his shoes, socks, T-shirt, and trousers, relieved when they didn't make him take anything else off. They patted him down, just to make sure, though, as he stood shivering and uncomfortable.

"Dress quickly and I'll bring you upstairs to your room," the first guard snapped. Draco did as he was told and they left with what was left to fit in a single bag. The stairs were at the end of the same hall, metal and grey, like everything else. The guard held his arm as the ascended two floors worth of steps to the third floor. After a door that led out of the staircase was unlocked, Draco found himself standing at the end of a much livelier hall. Although the only difference in the décor of this hall was that there were only empty door-frames along the gray walls, it still made Draco calm down a great deal.

There were a ton of boys bustling around the room, calling to each other, walking from room to room. Two guards were roaming around, peeking in the rooms, talking to a few of the boys and several nurses or attendants were supervising a few who were brushing their teeth. When they heard the metal door slam shut where Draco stood with his guard, most of them stopped what they were doing and looked towards him. A few more heads poked out of the rooms to see who was there. Instead of the loud voices and shuffling footsteps that he had previously walked into, the hall became relatively quiet.

"Who's that?" Several of themasked each other, not bothering to keep their voices down. The guard held him tight by the arm as he led Draco to a woman that sat at a desk behind a glass sheet at the end of the corridor. Some of the boys hissed at the guard while others looked at Draco curiously. Behind the glass, the woman stood and exited out of the only door, besides the one leading to the stairway, that was on the third floor.

"Ah, yes. Draco Malfoy, I presume?" She extended a long pale hand towards him and he shook it timidly, staring at her through skeptical eyes. She was tall with greying hair and wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, as though she smiled a lot. Dressed in a white shirt and white skirt, she looked almost like she belonged in a hospital rather than a rehab facility. "I'm Mrs. Franklin. I direct the third-floor from seven a.m. to seven p.m. on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. You'll meet the other third-floor directors when it's their shift, but right now, I suppose I'll show you where you'll be staying. I dare say your roommate will tell you where everything is and the schedules around here. Thank you Brice," she said to the guard. Draco was relived to watch him walk away down the hall and back to the stairs. Silent still, he looked up at the smiling Mrs. Franklin once Brice had disappeared and she led him to the fifth roomon the right from where he had first entered. As they walked, Draco inhaled the stale that hung about, wondering if the place smelled as hospital-like as it seemed. It really just smelled like a bunch of dirty guys. And the air-conditioner.

"What kind of schedule will there be?" Draco finally asked as they approached the empty doorframe.

"Classes, therapy, treatment, visiting days, sleeping hours, recreation room hours, things like that," she replied kindly as she knocked on the wall next to the room and then entered.

Draco nodded as he followed her, breathing heavily with anxiety.

"Harry?" Mrs. Franklin called.

To their right a boy with messy black hair and a pair of eyes that stood out in two bright emeralds, was kneeling beside an open closet. "Right here. Just making some room for the new boy," he said with a wide smile. Turning his gaze from the woman to look at Draco, Harry stood up, straightened out his jeans, and moved in close to Draco to shake his hand. He was so close that Draco could smell the cheap soap and laundry detergent that Saint Brutus's was supplied with and his hand was trembling and clammy.

"Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter. I'll let you two get acquainted." Mrs. Franklin exited the room as the boys let go of each other's hands and Draco took a step away.

"Sorry, they took away my specs so I have to get really close to see things," Harry said smiling sheepishly, sensing Draco's discomfort.

"Why did they take your glasses away?"

"Because this is Saint Brutus's and they think we're all going to try and slit our wrists," Harry said dramatically, "Mind you, some of the guys find other ways to do it."

Draco allowed a small smile and looked around the room that he would be staying in for however long he had to. The walls were the same grey but on the wall opposite the door was a barred window like he had seen from outside. The two beds against one of the walls were covered in a blue bedspread and white pillows and the closet doors were made of wood. Inside of them was a bureau and a sort of collapsible bar that had plastic hangers on it.

Draco looked back to his roommate who was wiping his nose with his sleeve. He was quite thin and pale, like Draco, but about two centimeters shorter. Unlike Draco's cold and empty eyes, Harry's green ones were alive, though a bit watery.

"Are you sick?" Draco asked him more rudely than he intended as he dropped his bag onto the bed that was still made, figuring it was for himself.

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Nope, not in the way you're thinking."

Confused, Draco sat with his back against the wall on his bed as Harry walked to sit on his. Draco didn't really care what that meant enough to ask.

"So… what's wrong with you… Draco, was it?"

Draco's head moved quickly to face Harry with a sneer. "There is nothing wrong with me," he said furiously.

"Right… so you're just here for kicks?" The other boy said doubtfully, not even with humour in his tone.

"I don't see how it's any of your business why I'm here."

"Fine. It's none of my business. But I'll bet you I can figure it out within a few days," Harry said matter-of-factly.

Draco pursed his lips and looked away, "Go ahead."

"Irritability, mmmkay… Didn't see any scars on your arms…and I can _certainly_ rule out Roxanol…" Harry mumbled to himself, purposely trying to get under Draco's skin.

"You've known me for five minutes. How can you possibly rule anything out?"

"Because that's what I'm in here for." Harry's voice had no emotion has he said it.

"Well what the hell is Roxanol, anyway?" Draco asked shortly, looking again at Harry.

"Oh, come on, you haven't heard of Miss Emma? M?" Harry asked incredulously, staring into lost gray eyes. "_Morphine_…?"

Draco knew what that was. Morphine, wow….he didn't look the type. Was that why he looked so sick? Was that why he was shaking so much?

"Oh." That was all Draco had to say. Hell, he wasn't even that bad. Morphine? He'd never even been near it.

Harry snorted, knowing exactly what Draco was thinking. "It's not as bad as it sounds. Well, except for withdrawals…" He wiped his nose again.

Draco nodded and stared out the window, which he was the closest to. It was dirty and he could just barely see down into the garden that he had thought looked so nice when he had been outside the gates. He took another deep breath. "So, how old are you?" He asked, trying to sound decent again.

"Sixteen and a quarter. You?"

He rolled his eyes at the 'and a quarter' part of the sentence and replied, "Sixteen as well. How long have you been here for?"

"Let's see… it's October now, so…Ten months."

"Ten months! You've been here for ten months!" Draco's eyes were wide as he sat up straight to see Harry.

"Yep, that's how much they love me," Harry smiled sarcastically.

"Is it horrible here?" Draco asked, his dread of the answer apparent.

Laughing, the shorter boy said, "Yeah… it is. But it could be worse."

"Splendid."

"Oh, you should know, we have to be up by seven, mandatory breakfast is at seven-thirty until eight-fifteen. Then routine starts right afterward. You'll get your schedule in the morning, I'm guessing. Er… lunch is twelve. No tea…" Draco winced, "… and routine ends at four. After that it's rec. room until six on weekdays, like today, and on weekends routine is only from ten to three-thirty. And for the rest of the time we can either be in the rec. room or outside like normal human beings. With supervision, of course. Every other weekend there's a town trip for those of us who have been good boys, so be on your best behavior," Harry finished with mock cheerfulness.

Both boys looked towards the doorway when they heard a quick knock on the wall outside followed by Mrs. Franklin poking her head into the room. "I'm out of here. Harry, be good. Draco, it was nice to meet you and I'll be back on Monday. Madame Bradley is here so you'll probably be meeting her soon." She smiled with her wrinkly smile and waved them goodbye.

Harry said, "See you later," and Draco nodded tiredly. They sat in a comfortable silence for not two minutes before a rather obese woman with short black hair and a fake yellow smile came in, not bothering to knock.

"Hello, Hello. This must be the new boy," she said with her false grin. Draco nodded, tired of meeting new people and she continued, "I'm Madame Bradley, seven to seven night shift, Monday evening to Thursday morning. I'll be waking you up by seven tomorrow, but you'll have a new director after that." Her nasally voice was low and bored sounding but when she continued she was speaking quietly through clenched teeth, "I hope that you can stay out of trouble here, boy. Though I realize that it may prove to be difficult considering who your roommate is." She peered at Harry through narrowed eyes, her smile gone, and then quickly exited the room.

"What's her bloody deal?" Draco whispered, not wishing for her to come back and give him such a malevolent look.

"She's not too fond of me, that's all." Draco laughed reluctantly at the understatement.

Harry took out a book called Wormwood and Draco got off of the bed to unpack. He took his bag over to the closet and knelt down on the ground like Harry had. "At least we're allowed to read here," he mumbled.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Harry agreed.

"I just don't know if I remember how to read," Draco said, not seriously, as he attempted to open the bottom drawer of the bureau, "I haven't picked up a book in months." The drawer was refusing to come out.

"Hmm, I wonder why… Oh, don't even bother with that drawer, it's stuck."

"I noticed," Draco said, annoyed as he opted to put his stuff in the first two drawers of the bureau and hang up his clothes on the dingy plastic hangers. "So what do you guys do from six to whenever you go to bed?"

"Nine-thirty. Lights out at nine-thirty. And all there really is to do is homework. Or read," he held up his book in example, "Or you can act crazy like the rest of them." Harry tilted his head towards the door and Draco heard the boys outside of the room yelling to each other and running around like idiots. "They figure if they're in here because people think they're insane, they might as well take advantage of it. I've been here too long for that."

The night passed with Harry reading his book and Draco going to take a shower, which he found that he had to do with a male attendant checking up on him every two minutes outside of the shower curtain. "Every thing alright in there?" "Yes everything is just _fine_, thank you." "Still okay?" "_Yes!_"

Trying to get some privacy as he got dressed in a pair of silver, silk pajama pants and a black T-shirt, Draco spent half an hour walking timidly from the shower to his room to get his clothes, back to the shower to get dressed and to the laundry hamper to discard his towel. "You're going to want to write your name on the tags of all your clothing if you expect to see it again after it's washed," said the male attendant, whose name was Garry.

At nine-thirty Draco was relieved to be going to bed. Unfortunately, he would have to meet more people the next day than he already had, but he was still looking forward to getting away from this new environment even if it meant he had to sleep, which he didn't usually enjoy.

However, Draco Malfoy was unable to get a sufficient amount of sleep that night. It was true that he hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep since he had started with his little habit, but he figured that once he stopped he would be okay again. He was tired beyond reason but his mind kept racing with thoughts of Saint Brutus's and the people he would have to meet the next day, the therapists he would see, and how many other boys would be as inquisitive as his roommate whom he was not too fond of.

He wasn't sure if Harry was asleep or not yet but he could hear him breathing. Draco didn't have much of a reason to hate the boy, but it was easy for him to decide to dislike someone for a little reason. He was just irritated that Harry had been so nosey, insisting that he could figure 'it' out. If there was one thing that Draco hated, it was people thinking that they could understand him. It just made him upset that Harry had been so cocky about the whole thing. Besides, he must be really messed up if he had been at Saint Brutus's for ten months.

A male attendant stepped into the room, looked around, and then stepped out again. "What…?" Draco whispered to himself, confused.

"They check up on us every fifteen minutes on Bradley's shift," Harry whispered, proving to not be asleep yet, "They're late, they should have started forty-five minutes ago."

But then again, Harry was helping him get used to this new experience, which Draco recognized as a kind enough thing to do. And he had opened up to Draco, which he was a bit uncomfortable with, but flattered just the same. Although he had been quite courteous, it was true, Draco still couldn't help thinking that the boy was a bit of an annoyance. Not to mention, both of the directors that he had met had given Harry the appearance of someone who needed to learn to be a "good boy", though he didn't seem the type to make a ton of trouble. Still, if he planned on making any trouble with Draco, or dragging him into any type of trouble, there would be hell to pay. Draco just wanted to be out of there as soon as possible.

Harry's breathing was heard as it shifted with the brunette falling asleep. Draco was left alone with his thoughts and the attendants coming and going throughout the night. He wasn't sure what time it was when he finally let sleep wrap itself around him; the guards had taken his watch. When he woke up, however, he wouldn't remember that his last musings were of white powder and hospital vans.

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**A/N:** And it's only gonna get worse! In a better way, of course. Ish. And Draco's behavior (naughty wittle Drakie!) is totally characteristic of someone coming off of Methamphetamine, in case he seemed a bit inconsistent to you. Not that I would know _personally, _trust me, i'm not that kind of guy.Oh, and Wormwood is a wonderful collection of short stories by Poppy Z. Brite. Go read it. 

Yeah, so **_review_** pwease!


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